Nora Horn Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Vienna

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m a carpenter now, yeah? Hammerin’ nails, sawin’ wood, all that jazz. But let’s talk about somethin’ juicier—whore. Not just any whore, mind ya, but the vibe, the idea, the bloody mess of it all. I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ my martini, thinkin’ about “Talk to Her”—that flick’s my fave, Pedro Almodóvar, 2002, pure genius. Got that line stuck in me head: “There’s nothing more alive than a wound.” Whore’s like that, innit? A wound that keeps bleedin’, keeps livin’.

Whore alley

whores. Men with this complex desire a sexual partner who has been degraded (whore) while they cannot desire the respected partner (Madonna). Freud.

You got Maino Street, where it's always crowded. Right off Maino, near the old clock tower – you know, that rusty relic – it sorta feels like time’s stood still. Then there's Rice Ave, quiet but powerful. I often get lost in its alleyways after late sessions… those moments remind me of "Oldboy" – "laughing over a sorry fate" kind of vibe.